Crème Kisses
by Windborn
Summary: Elissa plays to Nathaniel's sweet tooth to cheer him up after his disastrous reunion with her brother. She never expected to wind up jealous of dessert. Mild NSFW. DA100 #50 - Food.


**Crème Kisses  
** Dragon Age 100 Challege: 50. Food

* * *

It was a testament to the depth of Nathaniel's distress that he did not stay for dessert.

Elissa had not expected the first reunion between Nate and Fergus to go _well_ , but so far, her brother exceeded even her most pessimistic predictions. To say he was being an ass would be charitable. That Nathaniel had saved his life on his way in, when bandits waylaid Fergus's caravan two days out from Vigil's Keep, did not help his temperament. Owe his life to Rendon Howe's get? He would have been less angry, probably, at being left to die. At least that would have justified his resentment.

Though she didn't see Nathaniel slip out - as he likely intended - Sigrun's worried glances left Elissa little doubt as to why he had gone, and that he didn't intend to return to the feast. She waited until a serving boy brought the dessert course, took a second ramekin from his tray with a reassuring wink, and politely excused herself, leaving further hosting in Seneschal Garevel's competent hands.

A brief inquiry to one of the guards outside the hall gave her search direction. Thanking him, she added how nice it would be if no one followed. He saluted, smiling knowingly. She and Nathaniel had tried to keep their relationship discreet, if not a secret altogether, but the Vigil's residents and staff were observant, and the rumor spread quickly, given the dearth of other good news.

She found Nathaniel on the battlements, leaning on a crenellation. He stared vacantly across the grounds toward the surrounding woodlands, where dusk slowly crept from between the trees. "You missed dessert."

He turned as she approached, and a raw, sad smile greeted her. Weariness had etched lines around his eyes, making him look years older. "I keep reminding myself, if I'd stayed in the Marches, I would not have you."

"Is it sinking in at all?" She handed him a ramekin and spoon.

"Every time it starts to, Fergus opens his mouth." Peering into the dish, he asked, "What's this?"

"Dessert. Fergus will come around. It may take weeks, or months. Or years. He's stubborn enough."

"And has more than enough cause." His spoon tapped against the toasted-sugar crust, and some of the lines eased out of his face. "Hmm."

"He just needs someone to be angry at. He hasn't . . . had as long to heal." And he lost more, her conscience added. His wife. His _son_. She only sacrificed her freedom, and willingly.

A touch on her cheek pulled her from her thoughts. "I'm sorry. This is hard on you, too."

She leaned into his fingers, pleased to see warmth chasing away the sorrow in those deep grey eyes. "I'm more stubborn than he is. Eventually he'll realize that _you_ are one of the things he lost to Rendon's treachery."

"So he'll make peace to be contrary." Nathaniel wrinkled his nose in mock displeasure, patting her cheek before taking up the spoon again. "I suppose that will do. What _is_ this?"

"Some kind of custard. I didn't ask."

He cracked the sugar crust and took a taste. Speculation shifted to mild astonishment. He took another bite, and more of the tension eased from his posture.

"Better?"

"Mmm."

Grinning, she left her dish on the wall and stepped in close, and he held his aside to make room for her. "I am eternally grateful you don't subscribe to the Oghren school of avoidance."

"Liquor has its place. I certainly drink my fair share. But sweets usually taste better."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Slow and gentle, relieved to eliminate the space between them that Fergus's arrival had necessitated. Drawing back, she licked her lips. "Oh. That is good." Cupping his jaw, she pulled him to her and kissed him again, teasing forth tantalizing hints of vanilla, nutmeg, and nutty, toasted sugar.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Do you intend to eat yours," he asked when she released him, "or just enjoy mine second-hand?"

"Is that a problem?"

"Only insofar as you are between me and it."

Elissa laughed. "Dessert always wins with you." She stepped back and collected her ramekin, breathing in the sugary, rich aroma.

"Food spoils," he reasoned, unapologetic. "Whereas you, dear heart, are rather more resiliently delightful."

"Flatterer." She still found his sweet tooth unexpectedly adorable. But as the velvety custard crossed her tongue, she melted right along with it, sagging against the wall and savoring every nuance, letting the crunchy sugar crust slowly dissolve. "Oh . . . this is splendid." When she opened her eyes and went for a second spoonful, Nathaniel was watching her expectantly, amused. "Did you say something?"

"I asked if you need to be alone with it a while."

"This from the man who wanted me out of the way!"

"Should I have added 'also'?" The mischief in his eyes belied his innocent tone.

Elissa lingered over her next bite. Pretending not to watch him, she wrapped her lips around the spoon, drawing it out by slow degrees, sucking every hint of flavor from its length. As she languidly licked it clean, his brow crept slowly upward.

For a moment, the custard tasted just a little bit like victory.

The smirk with which he answered her challenge turned her stomach to butterflies.

Nathaniel took a small spoonful and set the dish aside. Deliberately put it down. Deliberately put _dessert_ down.

She was in trouble. "What -"

He dabbed a dollop of custard at the corner of her mouth. Before she could react, he pulled her against him and set about kissing it away. Callused fingers trailed up her throat, followed the curve of her neck to tangle insistently in her hair. He pressed forward, pinning her against the wall, teasing the edge of her lips with the tip of his tongue. Toasted vanilla mingled with the leather-and-beeswax scent of him, kindling a fire low in her belly. Too soon, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and weak-kneed, leaning on the crenellations for support.

She should know by now not to tease him. He was far, far better at it. Words slipped from her lips in a gasp. "Maker's Breath Nate . . ."

He pointed his spoon at her forgotten ramekin, not dropped only virtue of how badly she needed to hold onto something, anything. "Finish that first."

"What happened to savoring it?" she asked, trying to regain a little composure.

"Don't worry," he said, calmly scooping his dish from the wall, "I intend to. You'll have plenty of time to enjoy your own."

Andraste help her, she whimpered like her mabari after a bone. "I may just hate you a little bit right now."

He only smiled.

Elissa tried to match his leisurely pace, she truly did, but between the delectable flavor and wanting it _gone_ , she finished well ahead. The evening air bit her overheated skin, but did nothing to cool her or calm her tingling nerves.

Nathaniel never took his eyes off her.

She felt his gaze like a physical touch, shivering her skin to gooseflesh as, spoonful by slow, measured spoonful, he relished every bite of creamy custard. To be the contents of that dish, so adoringly devoured -

Maker! She was jealous of a bowl of sugar!

By the time he reverently set the empty ramekin on the wall with a sigh of bliss and regret, Elissa was wire-taut and trembling with restraint.

Nathaniel extended a hand, mercifully sincere. "Now. Where were we?"

He more than made up for making her wait.


End file.
